Busted
by Necchan
Summary: Shounen-ai/Yaoi. Truten. Trunks is away for Christmas. Goten feels lonely enough to go and do… something he’s not sure he should have done. Chaos ensues. A two-shot that fits into the same universe as “Homeward Bound”.
1. Chapter 1: Missing You

**Title: **"Busted".  
**Author:** Nemesi.  
**Fandom:** DBZ.  
**Genre: **Romance. Humor.  
**Word Count:** 1618 (this chapter)  
**Characters/Pairing: **TruTen.  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** DBZ, its characters, places and themes belong to Akira Toriyama, Bird Studio, Shueisha, FUNimation, etc.. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warnings:** Foul-mouthed Goten saying swearing/dirty words. Slash. Sexual innuendo and situations.  
**A/N:** Fits into the same universe as "Homeward Bound", but it's not necessary to read that one to get this. :)  
**Summary:** Trunks is away for Christmas. Goten feels lonely enough to go and do… _something_ he's not sure he should have done. Chaos ensues.

_Ki: _a person's inner energy, used in fighting to form explosive balls or beams.  
_Gi:_ garment usually worn by martial artists for training.  
_Chibi:_ it translates roughly into "Little One".  
_Ouji:_ "Prince". In this fic, it refers solely to Vegeta.  
_IT:_ stands for Instant Transmission. Goku's technique which allows him to instantly zap from one place to another.  
_Kami-sama:_ God.  
_Vegetasei:_ The Saiyajin's home planet.

≈¤≈

**≈¤≈ Goten's POV ≈¤≈**

I know this is gonna sound all wrong, but… getting into bed without Trunks sucks. _Royally_.  
Now, get your head out of the gutter. Trunks and I never do anything other than _sleep_, once we get under the sheets (and not due to a lack of trying on his part, mind you). We kinda promised not to get too far too soon, and by some miracle or another we're sticking to that.  
What I meant to say is that Trunks is out of town, and I miss curling at his side in the dark, laying either chest to chest or with him spooning behind me. I miss touching and kissing and laughing and doing other things with him I shouldn't really mention, if I want to keep the rating for kiddies. I miss our pitch-dark bantering sessions, that last until either Trunks kisses me into silence, or Vegeta gets pissed enough with the racket to flare his ki.  
Then there's this bad, _bad_ habit Trunks has picked up, of stalking me while I get changed for bed. He trails after me across Capsule Corp., tickles me, _tackles_ me, ducks inside the bathroom before I can lock the door, touches and teases and generally assaults me until I change ten shades of red and finally proceed to throw him across the room. Well, believe it or not, I'm so far gone that I'm missin' even _that _part of our daily routine. Hell, I'm so far gone that last night I frittered away Trunk's bubble bath and shampoo, and not even his conditioner got spared. And what for? Only to smell _them_ on me, and think for a moment that _he_ was back.  
Being. Apart. From. Trunks. Sucks.  
_Royally_.  
I can't stand the separation. And it's not like we aren't used to being apart, either: Trunks keeps hours you wouldn't believe! He's climbing the ladder at Capsule Corp, which virtually strands him in the office 15 hours out of 24. When I get to see him, 99 percent of the times it's already dark. In fact, we'd been looking forward to Christmas break to have some — you know — "_daylight_" time together to do the things boyfriends normally do. Think simple – small trips, an ice-cream in the park, a Dragon Balls hunt; going out to see a movie on a Saturday afternoon, or renting something to watch while cuddling on the couch. The usual. But noooooo, they just _had_ to go and send Trunks I dunno where, for a string of conferences on I dunno what, scheduling his return for "sometime before Christmas Eve".  
He's been away six friggin' weeks already, and here I lay, twisting and turning in bed, so tangled up in the sheets I must look every bit like a Spring Roll. Alternating between plumping the pillows and throwing them away, prey of all the lovesickness symptoms listed in those pink-covered novels mom hides in her closet, and missing him like crazy. I swear, it's just like Trunks and I have got this invisible umbilical cord between us, which allows me to feel him always, but also incapacitates me to function properly whenever he's not around.  
Have I said it already, that this whole forced separation-thing sucks royally? No? Well, I'll say it now. It sucks. _Royally_.  
I'm not wasting away, starving myself or anything; truly, I'm not. Mostly I tend to drift to zombie-land every now and then, but nothing major. I've had no hysterical breakdowns so far, no sudden violent urges, and only… one… single… itsybitsy, tiny, oh-so-very-brief plunge into insanity.  
I trail my hand below my belly, and mentally cringe when my fingers meet the result of my sanity-lapse. I've done something reckless, I'll give you that. But don't I always? Recklessness is a Son genetic trait — Dad's reckless, Gohan (when pissed) is reckless, and let's not start about Grandpa Bardock! He was the _king_ of recklessness, and I really can't go against what my DNA dictates.  
Plus, I was feeling incredibly confident at the time. I trusted that Trunks would be happy with my idea, and I just went along with it. But my confidence bout didn't last long. Six weeks are a damn _long_ time, to go and revaluate your actions. And now I've got my feelings into one _huge_ tangle. Half of me says that this is what Trunks wanted, what he's _always_ wanted, and that he's gonna be happy with it. But the other half is just as sure that Trunks will get angry, and nags about my idiocy until I remind myself that Trunks _will_ like this…  
Can you see the pattern? I worry, then reassure myself, then worry again, then reassure myself once more, then get worried all over again and so on. I've been doing this no-stop since he left. No wonder I'm insomniac.  
Truth is: I know Trunks. I know him well enough to tell he'll be both extremely _pissed_ and extremely _pleased_ with me. At the same time, yeah. He's weird like that.  
Question is, will his anger outclass any positive feeling he might have about this? Will he throw a fit? If things get _that_ bad, I've got my trump card. I'll just say that I was high on two dozen boxes of chocolate truffles when I did it, and he'll forgive me.  
…fat chance of _that_ working, uh? Thought so.  
Still, I've got hopes. I mean, he's such a great guy, you know? A little on the spoiled side, but always true to his heart. He's not very social, or talkative, and sometimes he's so arrogant and damn self-centred he'll make you feel like the scum of the earth but… he can be so nice, when he wants to. He knows how to be understanding and tender; and he's also loyal, not to mention fiercely protective of his loved ones.  
…which brings me back to square one. Jeez, it's exactly because he's so protective, that he might flip if he sees what I've done to myself!  
'cause, you see, he always worries about me. Worries that I don't eat or sleep enough, that I won't study for an exam; that I might be kidnapped and brought to a foreign Prince's harem, or beaten into a pulp by some random alien-guy wanting to conquer the Earth. Now that you know this, do _you_ think that his motherhen-ness will skyrocket, if I confess? That he'll go flying off the handle in a princely tantrum?  
Yeah, I know. Believe me, I _know_.  
It's so… _odd_. So fierce. Making sure I'm always safe and sound is almost a physical need for Trunks, as vital as breathing. Vegeta-Ouji says it's normal for Saiyajin to be so possessive, especially First Classes. Bulma-san sighs, her eyes glittering, and says it's sweet. Mom decreed that Trunks's behaviour borders on creepy; but she's actually pleased that I'm so fiercely looked after. She wouldn't have it any other way, and boy, did she made sure that Trunks _knew _it!  
I'll admit that Trunks's over-protectiveness can be a little stifling, sometimes. But whatever makes Trunks happy makes Goten happy, too. It's an Unspoken Rule of the Universe. Besides, I'm anything if not adaptable, and some overboard pampering has never killed anyone, has it?  
Speaking of pampering… it's getting colder, and Trunks isn't here to curl up against and steal a kiss or twelve. A part of me perks up and mentions I could always locate him through our connection and fly to him. Or better yet, I could use it to reel him back home, and in bed with me.  
The voice, whatever it is, is summarily voted against and delivered a deadly blown by the rest of my brain. Whatever Trunks is doing right now, it's important to him. He's working damn hard to show people he's not just a pretty face, but someone more than worthy of the position he's gonna inherit from Bulma-san one day in the (hopefully faraway) future. I've no intention to go and blow it up for him just so that we can _cuddle_.  
I wiggle under the sheets until I can peek at the window from beneath my cocoon of wool and cotton. Woah… it's snowing outside, I didn't notice. It makes for a beautiful picture. Light is starting to wash over the snow-capped peaks, and I think dawn is literally behind the corner.  
Too Damn Early o' Clock in the morning, I'm sleepy as hell, and sleep is _still_ playing bloody hard to get.  
This sucks royally, yeah. How did you guess?  
That part of my brain I thought I'd squelched before resurrects long enough to point out I'd sleep like a log, if I had what I needed here. Like, I dunno, maybe _Trunks_?  
Stupid insomnia.  
Stupid unconscious, saying silly intelligent things; stupid work, keeping Trunks away… Umph. C'mhere pillow. I really need a hug right now.  
…  
…  
…_Argh_! This is so insane it ain't even funny anymore. Is love always like that? Or is this beast large enough to fill me, with wings that keep me afloat through thick and thin, and fangs that can tear me apart without prior notice, something distinctive of Saiyajin only?  
Faintly, I can hear an answering twinge of pain and longing and deep-seated loneliness come from my link with Trunks. Below the surface, I can detect his adoration, need, concern. And his desire. So much desire that I feel a wave of heat wash trough me, making me tingle and curl into a little ball of trembling flesh.  
Ah! I might be skippin' my happy way down to madness, here. But if Trunks ever says this forced separation didn't affect him in the slightest, he'll be soooooooo lying…

**-TBC-**


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting You

**Title: **"Busted".  
**Author:**Nemesi.  
**Fandom:**DBZ.  
**Genre: **Romance. Humor.  
**Word Count:** 1381 (this chapter).  
**Characters/Pairing: **TruTen.  
**Rating:**R  
**Disclaimer:**DBZ, its characters, places and themes belong to Akira Toriyama, Bird Studio, Shueisha, FUNimation, etc.. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warnings:**Foul-mouthed Goten saying swearing/dirty words. Slash. Sexual innuendo and situations.  
**A/N:**Fits into the same universe as "Homeward Bound", but it's not necessary to read that one to get this. :)  
**Summary:**Trunks is away for Christmas. Goten feels lonely enough to go and do… _something_ he's not sure he should have done. Chaos ensues.

_Ki: _a person's inner energy, used in fighting to form explosive balls or beams.  
_Gi:_garment usually worn by martial artists for training.  
_Chibi:_it translates roughly into "Little One".  
_Ouji:_ "Prince". In this fic, it refers solely to Vegeta.  
_IT:_stands for Instant Transmission. Goku's technique which allows him to instantly zap from one place to another.  
_Kami-sama:_God.  
_Vegetasei:_The Saiyajin's home planet.

≈¤≈

**Goten's****POV**

I awake to what seems to be an earthquake. You know, the bed-frame shaking, mattress dancing the disco, pillows flying this way and that? I am so far gone that it takes being unwrapped from the sheets to realize that the supposed cataclysms is just Trunks wrestling quite ineffectively with the comforter to get to me.  
…  
…hold on a second, here.  
…_Trunks_…?!  
…Holy Shi…  
"TRUNKS!" I shot up in a sitting position, mouth agape, eyes refusing to blink in case Trunks were to disappear the moment I ain't looking.  
At first he doesn't say anything. He just smiles adoringly at me, face an hairsbreadth away from mine, and… well, all of sudden it feels like one _big_ chunk of my soul that had gone missin' is snapped back into place.  
"Hey, Chibi…"  
He's leaning forward, his hair is brushing against my face and then, as he pushes his cheek to mine, I realize he's sniffling my hair, sighing softly.  
"Wicked, wicked Chibi, going through my toiletries without permission! Were you that desperate?" he whispers, leaning back to catch my eyes. "I guess this makes us even, since I raided your closet for something to bring with me on the journey. Oh, and you might want to have your favourite shirt washed, before you wear it again." He arches one eyebrow, a wicked glint in his eyes. _That_ snaps me out of my trance.  
"Trunks!" I scream, and propel myself into his arms. "You back! Missed you! Like crazy! Trunks! Trunks! Trunkstrunkstrunkstrunkstrunkstrunks!!" I think – no, I _know_ I sound like a giddy eight-year old on his first trip to a candy store, but I'm not one bit ashamed. Trunks is back! He! Is! Back! This officially authorizes me to act all fangirlish-like, I think. No?  
Apparently, Trunks agrees with me, 'cause he sighs something along the lines of "that's more like it" as he wraps his arms around my waist. My face is now buried against his neck; Trunks's face, his mouth, his nose are nuzzling against my throat, exploring, tasting, marking the flesh as his own. It makes me purr — a full-fledged I've-got-the-cream kitty purr, a sound no teenager should be able to make. However, Trunks is purring twice as loudly. I can feel the rumble raise from his chest, feel his throat vibrate against my lips.  
"I missed you, too," he says.  
"Missed you more."  
"I beg to differ."  
"And he retaliates, as usual."  
"What can I say?" he asks as he pulls away, "I enjoy sparring with you, even if just verbally."  
"You're back after weeks, you've got me in bed half-naked and pliant, and wha'ya think about is---_sparring_?"  
"Negative. What I am _thinking_ about is highly unsuitable things to do to your body. The verbal spar I am doing for real."  
"Smartass."  
"Prettyface."  
"That ain't an insult."  
"Not coming from me, no. You know I love this face of yours."  
"Only my face? You sure? I was under the impression it was other body parts of mine you were after, what with the way you always _grope_ me and all."  
"Oh, hush!" I swear I can _hear_ the blush in his voice. And before you ask "what blush? Saiyajin Royals do not blush," I'll have you know that _that's_ a lie said Royals have been spreadin' round. Trust me when I say that Trunks blushes, Bra blushes, and I even managed to get – I mean, _see_ our Ouji all red in the face. See. Yeah.  
"You know what I meant, Chibi!"  
"Do I?"  
"Of course you do," he leans close, touches his forehead to mine. "You silly thing."  
"Well, it balances the couple. I mean: you get the brains, I get the looks."  
"Now who is being a smartass, I wonder," he replies, snorting, and I nip playfully at the tip of his nose.  
"Dunno, you are the intelligent one here. So tell me. Who's being a smartass?" There's a beat, before I find myself abruptly pinned to the bed. "Ehy!"  
"Enough with the spar," he begins, kissing my neck. "Methinks," a nibble on my chin, "it is _high time_," a lick along the corner of my mouth, "that we," a kiss on my nose, "got to those highly unsuitable things I can do to your body. What say you?"  
Ooooh, he's doing _it_ again. The trick where he drops the timbre of his voice to a velvety, rasping whisper that snakes straight inside me, wraps itself around my heart and makes it tremble like the string of an harp. Tilting his head, he mouths and nips his way along the line of my jaw, from under my chin up to brush my earlobe and back. His hands are on my hips, stroking lightly, coaxing; his mouth is at the hollow of my throat.  
"I say…" It's hard to think, especially since I'm one step away from melting into a Goten-puddle.  
I swallow, trying to get my bearings. But the _cheater_ notices my confusion, and moves to lay between my open legs, rocking and grinding against me. His body feels like fire.  
Rational thought all but flees me, and I can't help but arch up into him, meeting him move to move, giving back as much as I get. I have never felt anything like this, before. My hands on his back, his sides, his chest. His fingers ghosting over my mouth, pushing past my lips, under my tongue. A kiss. Then another. And then this pressure… this frenzy… this _heat_. We are like two pieces of a puzzle fallin' into place, two halves of a whole coming together.  
"Trunks…"  
Kami-sama. I know we made a promise an' all that, but… there's this battalion of butterflies roaming inside my stomach, this warmth spreading through my chest, and lower. Trunks totally owns me seven ways to Sunday, right now.  
"Chibi…"  
Then his fingers slip under my tank, stroking my skin, and a red alarms sets off somewhere inside my brain. Some part of me points out urgently that _his_ fingers, under _my_ tank is Something I Should Worry Very Much About. There's also some additional info about some thing or another I've done to myself, and about Trunks not wanting to see it. I'd pay more attention, but I'm too busy melting under our joined efforts. Trunks trailing his mouth down my neck. Me jerking his shirt open, tasting the sweat on his bare skin. Trunks rolling my tank up, now, uncovering—  
—uncovering my _hips_! Shit! I'd forgotten 'bout that! He isn't supposed to see--  
"Trunks! Stop! Wait! _Trunks_!" I try to hold the tank down, roll out of his clutches, IT away, shrink and become invisible, _anything_, but it's too late. Trunks's got a glimpse of what I so idiotically forgot to be concealing.  
Trunks freezes for a millisecond. Plenty enough timefor me to go and devise one thousand and one ways to escape. Brain's still frizzling at light-speed when, teeth bared, Trunks shoves the tank out of the way and yanks my boxers low enough to completely uncover the hollow of my hips. I'd be embarrassed within one inch of my life, if I wasn't so worried about my own survival.  
There before his very eyes stands the proof of what I've done while he was away. Can't say he looks cool with it, though. Actually, every muscle in Trunks's body is tightening, and I can see a twitch in his jaw. His eyes flash, as something that sound suspiciously like a growl erupts from his throat.  
Damn, damn, _damn_! I knew he'd get angry! I knew it! But this? Isn't he at least a little glad? A little thrilled? Proud? Fuck it, Trunks, you _asked_ for it…! You told me you _wanted_ it! And now that I've done it, you…  
His fingers tighten menacingly, nails diggin' hard into my flesh, even if not enough to draw blood. Hell, of all the ways I could'a died, it's gonna happen by my _boyfriend's_ hand? What's this, a cosmic joke? Karma biting me in the ass for my past sins, or something?  
"What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. This," he asks. And the coldness in his voice is enough to turn my blood into ice.

Well, I guess this is goodbye world. It was nice being born.

**-TBC-**

_This WAS supposed to be a two-shot, but I was having fun with this part here, and wasn't happy enough with the ending. Result, the two-short has lengthened into a three-shot :D_


	3. Chapter 3: Mystifying You

≈slaps forehead≈ the thing kept growing on me – either I'm too in tune with Goten, or I'm simply way too garrulous – but I refused to split the chapter in two _again_. So, here it is, the final chapter of "Busted". One warning: I tried to keep this fluffy all the way down, but Goten is a bit more foul-mouthed than usual. Also, traces of higher-rated stuff can be found approximately mid-way down the chappie, such a mentions of bloody ceremonies and such. ;D

**Title: **"Busted".  
** Author:** Nemesi.  
** Fandom:** DBZ.  
** Genre: **Romance. Humor.  
** Word Count:** 2647 (this chapter). 5646 (total).  
** Characters/Pairing: **TruTen.  
** Rating:** R  
** Disclaimer:** DBZ, its characters, places and themes belong to Akira Toriyama, Bird Studio, Shueisha, FUNimation, etc.. No copyright infringement is intended.  
** Warnings:** Foul-mouthed Goten saying swearing/dirty words. Slash. Sexual innuendo and situations.  
** A/N:** Fits into the same universe as "Homeward Bound", but it's not necessary to read that one to get this. :)  
** Summary:** Trunks is away for Christmas. Goten feels lonely enough to go and do… _something_ he's not sure he should have done. Chaos ensues.

_Ki__: _a person's inner energy, used in fighting to form explosive balls or beams.  
_Gi__:_ garment usually worn by martial artists for training.  
_Chibi__:_ it translates roughly into "Little One".  
_Ouji__:_ "Prince". In this fic, it refers solely to Vegeta.  
_IT:_ stands for Instant Transmission. Goku's technique which allows him to instantly zap from one place to another.  
_Kami-sama__:_ God.  
_Vegetasei__:_ The Saiyajin's home planet.

≈¤≈**Goten's POV**≈¤≈

Okay, okay, okay. _Don't panic_. I'm about to be mauled by the love of my life, but this is hardly the first time. Usually it happens during training, and Trunk does not have this homicide glint in his eyes, but I'll try not to focus on that.  
I can deal with this. I know I can. Come on, it's just Trunks! Same old, dearly beloved _Trunks_. I know exactly what to say to appease him.  
"_Uhh__…_"  
…helllllllllllllllllllo? Brain? Anyone home? Mphf. Forgot it doesn't work well under Trunks—induced stress, so what now?  
Trunks narrows his eyes, teeth gnashing together. He's crouching over me, like a big bad cat ready to pounce, shaking, vibrating, waiting in silence. A nerve on his forehead is jumping, as I thought I'd see only in cartoons.  
This is so _not_ like what I'd envisioned. I mean, yes: Trunks was bound to get a little angry. But for the love of Kami – he was supposed to be at least a little happy, too! He was supposed to be stunned, pissed, worried. Even to scold me at first, dote on me for a while, and then be happy.  
Because _that_ is what one does when his boyfriend turns his deepest desire into reality. One gets happy, smiles, and signs the whole tale down with a friggin' happily-ever-after ending.  
Hm? How can I know Trunks's deepest fantasy, you ask? Babes, bring out your notebooks and take some notes now, please.  
Axiom 001, also known as The First Law of Truten: given two Demi-Saiyajins Goten Son and Trunks Vegeta Briefs, each of them will always, unconditionally, know what the other wants, thinks or feels.  
Translated: I know him like the back of my hand, we've been together since our diaper days. Plus, we're kinda telepathic. It's not like we speak with each other in our minds, no. But we can sense what the other is feeling, like an explosion of colours behind our eyelids, or a faint buzzing in the back of our brain.  
"I asked you something, Goten."  
Goten, he said. Not Chibi. _Goten_. It may mean nothing to you, that he decided to use my name instead of my nickname. But translated from Trunks-ish to English, it spells trouble. _Big_ trouble, in big capital letters, underlined in red. _Twice_.  
To think he'd have been happy with the news, had I had the time to prepare him properly, to hint and tease and then – an adequate and possibly _very long_ amount of "then" later – uncover my secret when the time was right.  
"Y'see, it's like this…"  
"I am listening."  
Dry. Too dry. Never a good sign, not when Trunks is concerned, anyway. That's gotta be his best badass "Vegeta voice" ever, and trust me, I've got some experience in the area.  
"I — well, I guess my brain-cells went bye-bye for some time after you left, and after all aren't _you_ supposed to be the brains of the pair? I mean, it figures I'd go and do something stupid once left to my own devices! Not that it didn't sound like a good idea, mind you. I thought you'd appreciate it, but that could'a been only the chocolate speaking, if not for the fact that you mentioned this, I mean, not this-_this_, but this, in general, you mentioned it, the concept of…"  
"Goten?"  
"Uh?"  
"…rambling."  
"Ah…" I say, sportin' what feels like a blush. "Yeah. Uh. Sorry."  
"Are you?"  
Inhaling sharply, Trunks reaches out and delicately traces the cause of all the commotion: a Nan'gra of the Royal House of Vegetasei, spreading along my hip.  
A Nan'gra is the Saiyajin equivalent of a tattoo, more or less. A symbol which is either etched or burnt into the skin, and then filled with pigments once the wound has bleed a customary amount. If you feel masochistic enough, you can also add metal piercings here and there as the finishing touch.  
As you can imagine, a Nan'gra is more painful than your average tattoo. To put it bluntly, getting one hurts like above and beyond the deepest pits of Hell.  
It's also more – uhm – _embarrassing_, too. You can receive a Nan'gra only after a ceremony of sorts, dubbed Nan'greth, which requires a period of fasting, nakedness, sweat, blood loss, nakedness, strange incenses burning, and did I mention nakedness, already?  
Each Saiyajin sported at least one Nan'gra, back when we were more than just an handful. But due to the painful, intimate and sacred quality of the ceremony, Saiyajins who were already bonded could receive a Nan'gra only by their rightful mates. Uncommitted Saiyajin had no such restrictions, and some warriors sported from two to ten Nan'gra on their bodies, sometimes etched by different people.  
Technically, I still fit into the latter category – Trunks and I might be an official couple by Human standards, but we've not yet become mates by Saiyajin customs. I understand why it might irk him, that someone saw me like that, _touched_ me like that. But what's worth more to him? A few hours of me being exposed to someone else's eyes, or a life-time of me bearing this mark, a signature that says we belong together?  
Trunks struggles with himself for a moment, that analytical mind of his going to my Nan'greth. I bit my lip, catching a faint image coming from him. It's me. Naked. Writhing in the clutches of a faceless fiend as the Nan'gra is etched on my skin. It's painfully detailed, for a fantasy.  
And erotic.  
It enrages and excites him both.  
Shakily, Trunks traces the Nan'greth again, as if trying to rub it away with his fingertips. When he speaks again, his voice has softened a tad, which makes the task of breathing a little easier for me.  
"Why?"  
"You… ever since we got together, you've been talking 'bout markin' each other, bonding the Saiyajin way. Since Vegeta won't tell us how to do that, 'cuz we're too young and stuff, I thought to go for the next best thing. You were always fixed with the idea of Nan'gra, weren't you?"  
I remember the first time Vegeta mentioned the Nan'greth to us. Trunks's eyes had fled to me, wide and eager, looking at me as if I was some kind of miracle. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes had shut down and he'd looked away, contrite and shamed. In his mind, in neon letters, I could sense desire, I could sense guilt.  
He'd always wanted to bond with me by Saiyajin customs, to mark me and be marked in turn. Denied that, he now longed more than anything else to see a Nan'gra on my skin. But things are never that easy with Trunks – believe me when I say his middle name is "complicated". And complicated were his feelings on the Nan'gra. As much as he wanted me to have one, he lacked the heart to inflict such pain on me. He also felt guilty for wanting to do something so crudely painful to his love; not to mention enraged and jealous at the thought of someone else doing it in his stead.  
This odd, suffocating brew of guilt, shame, rage, jealousy, mixed with the hot, spicy drug of fulfilled desire, of lusty contentment and pride, is the fuel of his current anger.  
"Why this?"  
I shrug, as much as his hold on me allows.  
"A Nan'gra is a statement of sort. A Claim. It gives us our identity."  
His eyes flash again.  
"And that explain the presence of my _Father's_ seal onto your body how?"  
…come again? His father's seal? His _father's_? What the blinking heck… ?! Since when does the Royal House start and end with _Vegeta_?  
"What else was I supposed to put on my skin to say that I'm related to your family? The CC logo?!"  
"Nothing at all would have been a good enough choice!"  
Nothing? But he's the one who wanted me to have a Nan'gra that said we… oh!  
Oh.  
Ooooohh… I get it now.  
_The moron has no friggin' clue of what I've gone through and why!,_ I think to myself, realize I'm not talking to Trunks like I'd thought before, but rather I'm having a close encounter with his damned-to-Kami _jealousy_, and suddenly lose every ounce of patience I'd left.  
"You drama-queen prick, you!" I holler. "Take a look at the Nan'gra, Your Royal Blindness! Take a _real_ look at it!" I shoot him a glare, daring him to deny he's been too busy angst-ing to really notice what the symbol on my body says, "and you'd see a T entwined with the customary V on the Seal. It's there 'cause your name is _not_ Vegeta, like all the previous Princes, but _Trunks_ Vegeta. And it's _purple_ instead of crimson 'cause _your hair_ is. I had to go and get a Royal decree from Vegeta, a friggin' _Royal decree_, to modify the Seal so that it would suit you, and you don't even _notice_!"  
Trunks blinks. Then once more. And again. He glances down at the Nan'gra as if it was the first time he saw it.  
"Are you saying this isn't – that Father doesn't – that the mark says…"  
His eyelids begin to flutter rapidly, up and down, up and down, very quickly, until his face settles into a wide-eyed look, a curious mix of awed and fearful.  
"It says that I belong to a member of the Saiyajin Royal family, _yeah_. But guess what? It also specifies that I belong to the _only_ Royal Prince whose name begins with T and V, and who has some sort of relation with purple. Can you think of any?"  
"…_me?!_"  
Sweet Kami above, can he look any more like a kitten? No, seriously. Trunks's always possessed a feline quality – whereas I'm always compared to puppies. Right now though, he's not seductively feline, sleek and sexy in a panther-like way. He reminds me quite vividly of a tiny, blue-eyed kitten, all wet and ruffled.  
Will you excuse me for a moment as I go all "awwww" on it? Thank you.  
"Well, duh." I say, an adequate amount of glaring later. "Who else?"  
"But Father…"  
"…'s got the damn thing printed on every friggin' thing he owns. And then you wonder why I had the symbol modified. Jeez, Trunks. Seriously. I don't belong to just _any_ member of the Royal House. I belong to _you_, dimwit."  
Trunks looks extremely sheepish, as of now, which is a nice change. He is brilliant, no doubt on that. However, he's got the tendency to flip all his intelligence out of the window, whenever he gets even the slightest bit jealous. Obviously, his jealousy kicked in the moment he realized that someone locked themselves with his chosen mate in a cave, as naked as the day we were born, to etch something on my skin. And during his intelligence-leave, Trunks overlooked the obvious fact that said etched something was "property of Trunks Vegeta Briefs".  
At least the lost intelligence is returning from its trip outside Trunks's skull, now. I mean, if the look on his face is anything to go by. He's so surprised! Why, oh why, wasn't _this_ his first reaction? Why did I have to a fall for a "rip into their flash first, ask later" kind of guy? Why did he have to go and misunderstand everything, and doubt me, and believe even for a moment that I'd gotten something that said I belonged to _Vegeta_, and, and, and…  
"_Uhh__…_"  
"Yeah, 'uhh'. I knew you wanted this, Trunks. And I knew you wouldn't put me through something as painful as a Nan'greth, too. So I put myself through it."  
"Why?"  
Some of his sense is still out camping with the bees, uh?  
"Trunks," I sigh. "Trunks. I knew you'd like it, if I had a mark on me that said I was yours. I mean, _I_ liked the idea, and _you_ were so obsessed with the whole mark-thing, and we cannot yet bond the Saiyajin way, and it was the Holidays, and so, duh…" I look up, catch Trunks's eyes with mine, and pout. "Merry Christmas?" I offer.  
"_This_ is what you got me for Christmas?"  
I wince.  
"Bad move?"  
_"Bad?"_ he growls, eyes narrowed. "I will show you just _how bad_."  
And he pounces.  
The kiss is rough, and deep, and when he presses his thumb to my cheek to force my mouth open, his tongue slips inside, moving in and out, in and out. His teeth enter the picture, nibble at my bottom lip, draw blood, which he sucks and licks away, and I don't think I've ever been kissed quite like _this_ before. It's doing things to me — to the _Saiyajin_ half of me — that I dunno how to name. But boy, if we keep this up, we're gonna figure out by ourselves the Super Secret Holy Ancient Bonding Ceremony of Vegetasei. And perform it. Perform it, yes.  
I follow after Trunks when he pulls away, and yeah, the deep, low growling you can hear is no rabid thing prowling, but it's coming from _me_. I manage to catch Trunks's lips. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I slump back on the bed, eyes wide.  
"You… aren't angry anymore?" I venture.  
Instead of answering, he leans down and rains kisses across and around the Nan'gra, then nibbles gently at the jut of bone of my hip, making me groan. He buries his face against my belly, smirking at the sound. I feel his mouth curl against my skin.  
"You knew I would be angered by this?"  
"Yeah, well, kinda. I knew you'd appreciate the idea, but I also knew you'd flip if I didn't prepare you for the shock. After all, I've gone and hurt myself without notifying you first, Mr. Don't Do Anything Dangerous Or I'll Kill You."  
"I cannot deny that I am upset. Who wouldn't be? You have been deeply hurt, and someone has seen you naked. They have _touched_ you, intimately, while in a similar state of undress. I'm hardly pleased with those facts. But this, Chibi. _This_…" he trails off, sounding chocked.  
Now that he's got all things straight, he looks pleased enough, I dully note to myself. I have barely enough time to catch the delighted glint in his eyes, before he lowers his mouth to the Nan'gra and his tongue begins stroking the little initials of his name.  
"Y'mean you like?" I ask, smugly.  
He looks up at me from under his lashes, his breathing puffing urgently against my wet skin, and I _swear_, it's suddenly become one hundred degrees hotter, in here.  
"More than just like," he growls, kinda rough, kinda soft, and from our link he lets me feel how it pleases and thrills and moves and even _arouses_ him that I've been able to read into his heart and give him exactly what he wanted. A proof for everyone to see that we belong together, always have, always will.  
Cradling his face, I draw Trunks up to me, close his mouth with mine. I allow him to catch a glimpse of my emotions, in turn — the love, yeah; the passion, of course. But the contentment, also. The pleasure and giddiness and cockiness for being able to read him so deep down, so clearly; the amusement I feel for predicting his double reaction so well. I send him a glimpse of the fear I had of him overreacting, and one hell of a chiding for being an ass. My hot-headed, over-jealous, dim-witted, genius ass.  
He laughs into my mouth, admits telepathically that he _would_ — I quote — have kicked my arse to the moon and back had my body been wounded and exposed for any other reason than _please_ _him_, and then proceeds to thoroughly acquaint himself with his sparkling-new gift.

We don't resurface from the bedroom for quite a long time.

≈¤≈**おわり**≈¤≈

Ending are my weak-point. ≈winces≈  
Anyhow, our little trip in the Homeward Bound Universe is now over. So many other things have happened and will happen in this particular fan-verse : the tale of Bra's advice mentioned in Homeward Bound. The boys "coming out" to their families. Goten getting his Nan'gra (and it'd be only fair if Trunks got one himself, now), Bulma's snide attempts to know all juicy details of his son's great romance… but as I said, I've written nothing more for this fan-verse. Not yet, at least.  
For those of you who are wondering about Nan'gra, they are completely fanon. Something I came out with out of sheer craziness. :P The etching-then-painting tattooing method is inspired by the one Native Americans used. The "piercing added as a finishing touch" were an idea I borrowed from Royo's illustrations. He often draws people (girls) wearing tattoos-mixed-piercing on their bodies, and I just love those things.


End file.
